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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23081164">A Long, Slow Death</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/samiraxlula/pseuds/samiraxlula'>samiraxlula</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The 27th Day of the Month [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood: Lost Days</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Assisted Suicide, Catatonic Jason Todd, Gen, Good Parent Talia al Ghul, Jason Todd forgets stuff, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd's Death, Jason Todd-centric, John Constantine Needs A Hug, Pre-Grant Morrison Talia al Ghul, Suicidal Thoughts, the Lazarus Pit fails</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:55:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,051</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23081164</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/samiraxlula/pseuds/samiraxlula</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason Todd is dying. Again. He can't find it in himself to care, though. He just wants to go quietly this time around.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Batfamily Members &amp; Jason Todd, Jason Todd &amp; Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd &amp; Death of the Endless, John Constantine &amp; Jason Todd, Talia al Ghul &amp; Jason Todd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The 27th Day of the Month [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1663894</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>373</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. COME AWAY WITH ME</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ages for batfamily members in this fic: [in order] Alfred (71), Bruce (46), Talia [not 100% fam, but present] (41), Barbara (30), Dick (28), Jason (21), Cass (21), Steph (20), Tim (19), Damian (14).</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gotham was loud tonight. Nothing too unusual, as filth always spills out at night. Pimps, bumbling alcoholics and street-corner drug dealers.</p><p>It was easy to be sucked in and trapped by the oppressive, hopeless buzz of the gothic city, and many people never did make it out. Though death had once provided such an escape for Jason, it seemed as though even matters of life and death could not come between the infinite chokehold the city had over her children.</p><p>Not even that of her damned prince. </p><p>There was the sound of faint, distorted music coming from the room next door as the Red Hood stood over a dead body in his own apartment safe-house, the smell of three days of decomposition coming off of it. It beckoned flies to cautiously hover in mid-air nearby, but not too close as they scattered when the masked man knelt down next to the corpse.</p><p>Resting his hand on the body’s shoulder, he flipped it over only to stumble backwards as the head whipped towards him at an unnatural angle, eyes blank white behind the lenses of the domino mask. </p><p>It had a sloppy gait as it approached slowly, jaw dislocated to show blood splattering over its lips and red stained teeth as it moaned upon smelling its own blood in the air, Jason himself beginning to feel nauseous at the sight of the horrific burns that it’s had skin peeling and sticking to the red, green and yellow colours it wore. </p><p>It seemed to be sobbing in pain, each breath coming in with a wheeze to Jason’s growing dread as it stumbled towards him, bones cracking as it rose from the floor and had Jason backed up flat against the wall as he recognized his own face.</p><p>“Fix this,” it begged himself, gargling blood as it spoke and clutched at his shirt in a death grip. “Fix this!” </p><p>“I— I don’t know h—…”</p><p>“Fix it!” It hissed this time, anger visibly growing and the room growing colder around them.</p><p>
  <em>“That’s enough now, little bird.” </em>
</p><p>Jason felt an approaching figure place a gentle hand on his arm, tugging him one way suggestively as the younger version of himself disappeared without even blinking.</p><p>"Now," she spoke ever so softly. "You’ll come home."</p><p>Looking up at her kohl-lined eyes, which dipped into a swirl underneath her left eye, he felt a rush of childlike fondness towards her.</p><p>Though her gaze had been described as terrifying by some, he always rather thought that she had a kindly, almost strangely maternal look to her. Although in fairness, she could be cruel on a whim.</p><p>“Soon. Promise.”</p><p>
  <strong>.    .    .</strong>
</p><p>GOTHAM CITY / APRIL 1ST / 4:00 PM</p><p>Jason awoke on the floor of his bathroom.</p><p>His helmet had been thrown off in a hurry and chucked just outside the bathroom door by shaking hands, as the smell of vomit and blood in the bathtub hit his nose that he’d have to clean out later yet again.</p><p>Great. Only the first day of the month and he’d had an ‘episode.’ He was normally...off this month but he had a feeling this one wasn’t going to be any better than the previous six Aprils he’d had seen coming back from the grave.</p><p>He wondered if something had triggered it on patrol. If he did go on patrol last night, that was. Wait...did he? A genuinely confused frown crossed the twenty-one-year old’s face before he just gave up on the thought, groaning as he gripped the sink counter to help himself stand, his bones aching as he ran his tongue over his bloody teeth.</p><p>His memory had been growing patchy as of late. Of course, he’s always had trouble with certain memories; particularly those of his robin years; but in recent months there had been nights such as this where he couldn’t remember if he had been out on patrol or not and whether he had met up with Roy and Kori anytime recently. </p><p>He wondered if the trouble of seeing Leslie was worth it when he already knew what was wrong.</p><p>Stumbling out of the bathroom groggily, Jason grabbed his phone off the counter and made an ‘ugh,’ sound as the blue light hit his eyes, blinking to read the calendar notification shown on the lock screen.</p><p>
  <strong>6:30 Dinner at Manor.</strong>
</p><p>Oh, great. Jason cursed as he tripped over nothing, grabbing at a nearby shelf to steady himself but falling anyway when the item he had grabbed onto was loose, knocking him in the head even after he had landed on his chin.</p><p>Sigh. “Why me?” </p><p>Pulling the beads that had fallen out of a box off his face, Jason stared at them for a moment from his position on the floor.</p><p>He wasn’t one who kept or even had many possessions he cared for, not that he could bring them with him every place he went since he moved around so much, but this one string of rosary beads was the last connection he held both to Catherine and his catholic roots. </p><p>Alfred had given it back to him in a prettily carved box at one of their brunch meetings, where it had been kept in his old bedroom, untouched for five years as all his things were.</p><p>He shouldn’t have taken it back and just left it with Alfred. What need did he have for it? He didn’t care.</p><p>The last time he’d even gone to church at all was with his once adoptive mother, Natalia Knight, all those years ago, who took him to mass one Sunday in one of her many attempts to bond with him. It was strange thinking of her now though and Jason absent-mindedly wondered what she'd think of him as he was these days.</p><p>He felt exhausted. Like his body was slowly powering down and he was just waiting for the bar to finish loading. He didn’t feel like getting up off the floor and just thumbed over the beads one by one, mumbling what he had memorized of the apostle’s creed. </p><p>“...the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting. Amen…”</p><p>Though he’d rather just keep his eyes closed, he did have to be at the manor in two and a half hours. He looked awful. He needed a shower. </p><p>Getting up with great difficulty, more mental than physical, Jason placed the rosary back on the shelf he had grabbed onto next to his growing collection of classics. He slipped his phone back into his pocket as well. </p><p>After making himself look as ‘presentable’ as he could possibly be, Jason was just about to grab his keys and leave before the confused look crossed his face again.</p><p>Where was he going again?</p><p>Blinking for a few minutes as he stood in the doorway, he went back inside and sat down on his couch with a couple blood-stains he had tried to get out to no avail, stewing over his confusion for a whole hour with a blank expression before he seemed to snap out of it and pull out his phone.</p><p>
  <strong>6:30 Dinner at Manor.</strong>
</p><p>Oh, that’s what it was. He was glad he figured it out. What he wasn’t glad about was the apparent hour he had spent on the problem since he was now going to be late. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. LEAVE THIS PLACE BEHIND</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jason speaks with his various family members. The ones he can remember anyway.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You know what's odd? Most people have trouble writing the middle portions of their stories but I have trouble with my beginnings and endings. Like, I know where I want to go with this but getting it there is the tough stuff.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>[ One Month Ago ]</p>
</blockquote><p>“Talia...is that a...<em>camcorder</em>?”</p><p>Jason blinked bewilderedly as the Chinese-Arab woman held out the camera to capture the dog show going on below the stands, where Damian and Titus stood, with the screen pulled out with which Jason observed the commotion through.</p><p>“I see you received my invitation.” The daughter of the demon ignored his growing bafflement to turn her head towards him and upon giving him a barely-noticeable look over, smiled with red lips. “You look well, Jason.”</p><p>“Thanks…?” Jason tugged at his white button-down and grey pull-over combo. You look—”</p><p>“Glowing? Yes, things have been good for me as of late.”</p><p>“Please tell me you aren’t chasing after Bruce again, Tals.” He leaned over the railing slightly to raise a hand in greeting to Damian, who just now noticed his presence and seemed surprised by it before turning his attention back to the judges. </p><p>“I can’t seem to stay away. Tragic and futile, I know.” A rare playful glint was seen in her warming brown eyes that only few privileged enough were allowed to witness.</p><p>“Dick said you broke into his office at work. What did his face look like?”</p><p>“I haven’t lost my touch when it comes to springing surprises on your father, it seems.” She allowed herself a laugh. “But it came to my attention that he was not going to be present at Damian’s dog show and so I made myself available.”</p><p>“Your co-parenting is impeccable.” Jason rolled his eyes before settling himself in the box seat with a quiet wheeze. Although Talia had said he looked well, they both knew he looked anything but and had been for some time. The cause of which, both of them knew very well. </p><p>“I did have ulterior motives in inviting you to your brother’s show.” She began quietly, seemingly omitting the usual vagueness that she employed as she ended her video-taking to sit next to him and wordlessly take his hand as she always did when he was younger and catatonic. </p><p>“You don’t say.”</p><p>It wasn’t something many people knew about her, with the image she projected and all, but Talia loved <em>love</em>. She could practically exude it when she was with someone she cared for though she could also reverse and turn colder than ice without blinking.</p><p>“I would like for you to come stay with me awhile.”</p><p>“Because the pit’s wearing off and you don’t know why.” Jason gave her an uninterested look. </p><p>“Look, Talia. I don’t want to make a fuss about this whole thing. All I want is to just go quietly and semi-peacefully this time. No tears, no guilt or regrets, I’m just going to leave. These past six years should never have happened for me and as far as I care, it’ll all be over soon. Gotham and me… we’ll both be free.”</p><p>.    .    .</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>GOTHAM CITY / APRIL 1ST / 6:27 PM</p>
</blockquote><p>He was immediately greeted by a frowning Alfred.</p><p>Jason supposed it could have been for the fact of arriving only 4 minutes before the elderly butler liked to serve dinner or that he had noticed the obvious dead-look Jason had from his vomiting and shaking only a few hours before. </p><p>But who could say. </p><p>He had tried to make himself somewhat ‘presentable,’ at the very least for Alfred, who had been the one to invite him and was one of the few who still seemed to actually care about him without condition still. </p><p>“It’s good to see you as always, Master Jason. I was beginning to fear you weren’t going to show.”</p><p>“The effort I put in for you, Alf.” Outstretching his arms for a hug, which he received forgivingly, Jason genuinely grinned. “I’m here.”</p><p>Everything was mostly still the same, not that Jason cared to look around much. He just stayed close to Alfred, who led him to the dining hall, hands shoved into his pockets as the sounds of the others chattering away got closer, filling his stomach with something sickening.</p><p>No. He wasn’t going to fight them anymore. Just be civil, leave and hopefully that’ll be the end of that. He was planning on not letting there be any fuss about his dying and going to the Manor once in a while this past year was his way of showing quietly that he was settling his grudge, all without being too frequent as to have them start thinking of him as ‘family’ again. </p><p>Even though he had grown up in this house, even though he had carried the name of both Wayne and Robin respectively, Jason would forever feel like an outsider and he could deal with that. If he got any closer, it’d just hurt more in the end.</p><p>“Meh, long story short, his hands or arms won't be functional for a very long while.”</p><p>Cass giggled quietly from behind her comic book; which none of the others would have gotten away with reading at the dinner table; one of the most recent interests of hers she had been getting into, as the story-teller waved her arms about in narration from her own seat next to the Batgirl. </p><p>And then Jason stepped into the room.</p><p>The air had gone quiet almost immediately with six pairs of eyes taking note of his entry. </p><p>“Master Jason, if you please.” There was no pleading tone, and he wasn’t trying to make Jason feel like he was some sort of rabid animal. He was soft spoken, yes, but his voice took a firm tone.</p><p>Jason let his arms, which were crossed over his chest, relax and come down, though his glass-coloured eyes were still hard. “I'll play nice.” Jason’s words came out as a sigh. <em>Not going to fight anymore. We’ve been doing this for months already now.</em></p><p>“Thank you.” Alfred smiled at him, the second he’d gotten today. Only Jason didn’t smile back this time, taking a seat at the furthest end of the table away from Bruce, who only barely made a smiling expression. </p><p>“Hello, Jason.”</p><p>Although the collective Bats and Jason had been seeing more of each other without ending up in skirmishes, history made for awkward chatter around him. </p><p>Jason replied with a roll of his eyes, resting his face on his hand which he had up on the table while Alfred left to bring in dinner. </p><p>“Little wing! What have you been up to recently?” Dick played his hand at trying to resume the friendly mood he had been maintaining.</p><p>Sigh.</p><p>“Frolicking around flower patches.” Jason replied with the utmost seriousness.</p><p>“Wow, that’s interesting. Didn’t peg you for the type.”</p><p>“That’s rather biased of you. Can’t zombies go out and smell the roses from time to time?”</p><p>“Once a Robin, always a Robin, huh?” A blonde girl, whom Jason had heard speaking earlier, whispered to Cassandra who giggled again. His eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to place who she was but his memory blanked.</p><p>She was seated at the dinner table in between both Cass and Tim; who nodded in greeting to his presence; and was dressed in a neon purple sweater which Damian looked as if he took personal offence to the sight of the blindingly offensive item. </p><p>He felt as if he should know her from someplace...</p><p>“...Sorry…” Jason started slowly, brows still furrowed. “But <em>who</em> are you?”</p><p>A silence came over the table as six sets of detective-trained eyes gauged his level of sincerity. </p><p>"Wow. That really hurt.” The blonde girl followed with a loud laugh. “Right in my core. Honestly, Jason, this level of not caring—." </p><p>“Not joking,” Cass spoke first after scrutinising the confused anti-hero. “Jason is confused.”</p><p>“Did you hit your head on patrol?” Tim inquired, gaze as steady and scrutinizing as always. “Concussions are nasty business.”</p><p>“Have you had an MRI or CT scan done?” Bruce followed Tim’s line of questions.</p><p>“Um, more important question...why am I the only one forgotten?!”</p><p>“Tt. It’s obviously because you <em>are</em> forgettable, Brown.”</p><p>“Young Miss and Masters!” Alfred scolded everyone talking as he set down the platters of mouth-watering homecooked food. “We do <em>not</em> raise our voices around the dinner table.”</p><p>Placing a hand on Jason’s shoulder, Alfred seemed as concerned as the rest of them voiced, though they now were sheepishly serving themselves after being scolded. “Perhaps you should go for a little lie-down, Master Jason.”</p><p>“No, I’m fine. I think I’ll just go straight home after dinner, though.”</p><p>They let the ‘<em>home</em>,’ bit slip.</p><p>“And once more Todd proves he’s the most mentally balanced person in the room,” Damian commented sarcastically as he took a bite of his mashed potatoes.</p><p>“Whaaat? And here I thought that was Timmy.”</p><p>“Well <em>I</em> would’ve said Dick is the most normal out of us all, but he did date an alien on and off again so I’ll just leave that there.”</p><p>“Seriously? I always thought <em>he</em> was the strange one. I mean, he talks. The rest of us keep things in files or journals like regular folk.”</p><p>*    *    *</p><p>Cass, who had followed him out to where his motorcycle was parked after dinner, looked unimpressed and to be completely honest, somewhat scary following him in the long evening shadows. Her usual deadpan expression shifted to add furrowing brows with a little worry line as she put her words together in her mind. </p><p>“You are…in a <em>mood</em> today?” She tried the new word before shaking her head. “Strange.”</p><p>Jason couldn’t help but let out a little breath of laughter. “Aren’t I always in a mood, Cassie?”</p><p>She let a small frown linger. “No. You are sick?”</p><p>Jason didn’t answer her as he sat on the bike’s seat, waiting for the taxi Alfred had called for him out of worry for his ‘concussion,’ and driving with one. </p><p>“Just forget anything happened tonight, okay? See ya’ ‘round Batgirl.”</p><p>With that, Jason waved without looking back and got into the taxi which had arrived as Cass walked back to the manor on her own. Damian, however, was standing in the doorway waiting for her with his arms crossed, though his sharp eyes followed the taxi driving off and away.</p><p>“Little brother.” She placed her arm across his shoulders as she heralded him back inside.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Not that you must, but if you noticed a difference in Talia written here and the previous works, it's because she had only just met Jason there. She's written now as someone more open and affectionate with Jason because he's someone that she's had time to grow fond of in the time she took care of him.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. BEYOND THIS BROKEN TOWN</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bruce Wayne is concerned about Jason. But then again, isn't he always?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>THE NARROWS / APRIL 13TH / 11:52 PM</p>
</blockquote><p>A watchful eye takes to the night skyline as a shadow moves into the dense underbelly of Gotham. The island situated in the middle of the city and Gotham river was notorious for housing the poorest of the poor and the hardest of the hard. It was also protected infamously by the Red Hood.</p><p>Taking his perch on a rooftop ledge, the Batman knew that he was running the risk of ruining any sort of friendly standing he had with the anti-hero by being in his territory without prior notice, and while he would normally respect that, it had been thirteen days of worry and no word from his son. </p><p>If he truly did have a concussion, it should have recovered by now but something; as well as Damian's suspicions; told him it was something more. What that was exactly was the million-dollar question.</p><p>The neighbourhood radiated a certain depressing feeling that hung deep over the crime-filled alleyways, with the heavy aroma of trash riddling the muggy streets surrounding as Batman grappled off towards the sound of gunfire erupting in a dilapidated warehouse three streets away near the river bed.</p><p>Creeping by the skylight window panes, the Bat observed, analyzed and judged the scene going on below. It seemed to just be a simple street gang vs the Red Hood fight, with the latter crouched behind a square wooden crate. The best thing for the Hood to do, and what he expected him to do, was grapple up to gain a vantage point and high ground.</p><p>But he didn’t.</p><p>He just crouched there not moving as he stared at his grapple hook like he had forgotten how to use it.</p><p>The crate wouldn’t last forever.</p><p>“Hood!” Batman shouted with glass shattering around him as he swooped in with the sound of wind catching underneath the black cape, grabbing him roughly and dragging him back as the bullets grazed his knee instead, a hiss coming out from the older vigilante. </p><p>"The hell is the Bat doin' 'ere?" One of the thugs wildered in a heavy bowery accent from amidst the cracking of gunfire.</p><p>Heaving him up against the back wall of the warehouse, the emotionless white lenses of the cowl looking analytically over the anti-hero, finding him unresponsive though conscious to some degree as he pressed two fingers to check his pulse. </p><p>"Hood." Bruce snapped his fingers in front of the red helmet, it doing nothing to rouse him.</p><p>He could hear the thugs nearing in closer to them, though he could also hear their hesitation. He could work with that for now.</p><p>Even within the rotting heart of Gotham, the superstitious and cowardly mentalities of criminals were easily manipulated and when the smoke screens are deployed, when the emergency lights kick in, fear will take over them. Always.</p><p>Their movements become erratic, uncoordinated. Every little action they take, every decision made will lead only to their downfall. Dramatic, perhaps. But his oath demanded fulfilment and received it, fear tactics ending the fight in under five minutes. </p><p>Having dealt with the issue at hand, the Bat stalked back to the now mumbling though rousing younger vigilante, who seemed bewildered to see him there.</p><p>“<em>Dad</em>?”</p><p>Batman blinked. With all the explosions and loud gunfire he’s dealt with in his career, it seemed his hearing would finally be giving up in his forties. </p><p>“What are you doing here, Dad?”</p><p>Even with the helmet on, Red Hood’s body language showed that he thought the usage of the title wasn’t something abnormal to say. But it was. He hadn’t had anyone call him that in six years. But here Jason was acting like he’d never stopped calling Batman that. Or didn’t remember <em>why</em> he stopped.</p><p>“Jay—Hood.” Batman corrected quickly, so thrown off balance by one word that he was forgetting his own rule of not using names in the field.</p><p>“I’m taking you to see Leslie. <em>Now</em>.” Though his voice was cold steel, he couldn’t help the softening edge it drifted into. </p><p>However, that seemed to snap Jason into a clearer consciousness. “Uhh, I think the fuck not!” Noting the unconscious thugs only a few feet away from him, he turned a nasty glare onto Batman.</p><p>“What brings you by the <em>narrows</em>?” Translation: his territory you had no business being on.</p><p>“Not the most pressing concern right now.” The Batglare™ met his own. “You need to see a doctor.”</p><p>“Not happening.” As Jason stood up, noticeably favouring his left side with a wince as he tried to push by Batman, who hissed himself as the Hood turned to notice his bleeding leg. This made them both pause.</p><p>“Your apartment?”</p><p>The Red Hood looked at him a moment before conceding with a heavy sigh as if the very thought alone of having Batman in his apartment annoyed him.</p><p>"Fine."</p><p>*    *    *</p><p>"Ice pack."</p><p>Bruce walked away from the wincing boy—no, man. He was a man now, wasn't he? Opening his freezer, his leg already bandaged by Jason’s first aid kit, he came back with a bag of frozen peas. "Will this do?"</p><p>“Yes.” In a disgruntled voice, Jason revealed the purple bruise upon his ribs.</p><p>Had he been caught off guard on patrol? Possible, but the Hood seemed to have a solid handle on his area except for his staring spell in the warehouse. It seemed more likely he had gotten it off duty and just worsened it on patrol. Was Jason fighting outside of being Red Hood? Did Jason have an identity outside of the red helmet?</p><p>"Hrm." Bruce let out a noise of thought as he looked at the bruises a second too long, earning another annoyed glare from Jason.</p><p>Jason's apartment interior was in surprising contrast to the run-down exterior of the building. One could tell he took considerable care of his space, a trait his other boys were sadly somewhat lacking in, and although there weren't many personal items beyond necessity such as photos or furnishings visible, it did feely rather homely even with the decorative ceremonial knives on the wall contrasting with the house plant in the corner.</p><p>"What happened out there, Jay?" Although he wondered about the bruises, they didn't surprise Bruce, knowing the sort of stuff he himself got into when masquerading as the bat, but his...dissociation...that wasn't something he could forget about. After all, the investigative mind is a restless one.</p><p>Jason's lips curled to the touch of ice, grimacing as the pain was eased by the cold. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. Lonely street gang - following a missing persons case.”</p><p>Bruce took the hint despite it nagging at him. <em>Leave it alone. You're already on thin ice here.</em></p><p>"Missing persons? I’ve been tracking a gang kidnapping children off the streets in the lower Diamond district." Bruce pushed back his cowl, pulling strands of hair into matted formation and allowing the piece of fabric to lay against his shoulders.</p><p>"Sounds about right." Jason laughed without humour. "There’s always something going on in a place like that. It's always the kids no one cares about."</p><p>He could hear it, the history in his voice. The festering resentment for the criminal underground. It was what worried him then, back in Jason's Robin years. Now he just worries more about Jason's health.</p><p>"I'm going to take a shower," Bruce stated but phrased it like a question to which Jason nodded at, motioning at the last door down the hall.</p><p>Standing there in the bathroom, the cowl comes completely off. And as he stared at himself in the mirror, he feels as though he isn't quite fully whole without it on. He wonders if Jason ever felt like that. If his boys have separated their identities in the ways he has. He hopes not.</p><p>*    *    *</p><p>“You good there, Bruce?” Jason held out a shot glass of whiskey he poured himself at some point as the man emerged from his apartment's bathroom, hair still wet. “Need a drink?”</p><p>“You know I don’t drink. And it’s complicated as always.” Bruce grumbled as he clutched the knee the bullet grazed the moment he sat down on the same couch next to him. He was dressed in grey sweats that surprisingly fit him and a Batman t-shirt which Jason took mild amusement in explaining that it was to support Dick's Batman, not his.</p><p>“Finally something that isn’t broody nonsense coming out of your mouth."</p><p>"Hrm."</p><p>There was a peaceable silence for a moment, with Jason finishing his drink and Bruce resting his knee. The bag of frozen peas had defrosted on the coffee table before them, along with the first aid kit.</p><p>Having quiet moments together like this was something rare but very welcome, Bruce mused over watching Jason's content expression. It was something he'd keep in his memories of his second born.</p><p>“We don’t do this anymore.” Bruce commented with an almost wistful voice.</p><p>“And who’s fault is that?” </p><p>The scarring on Jason’s neck seemed more noticeable at times like these, with the tense atmosphere growing.</p><p>Bruce sighed.</p><p>All he was trying to say in so many words was that it was good to be around Jason again—but of course Jason didn’t see it that way. The misunderstandings between the two just kept seemingly growing in number no matter what he said.</p><p>“We have a lot of bad history, Jay, I won’t deny that,” Bruce has his eyes meet Jason's when he adds, "But I only just got you back and I’m not looking to add to it further."</p><p>Well...if that didn’t silence the Hood for a moment. There was just something about his once father’s words that held some of that paternal warmth, something he tried to deny that he craved so much.</p><p>Bruce seemed to notice the heavy silence on Jason’s end, making him turn his gaze downwards at his bruised knuckles, brows slightly furrowed in concern. It was never Bruce's intention to render Jason speechless, let alone inflict emotional distress—he was merely trying to get his son to talk more by...what were Dick’s exact words... ‘stop being a grumpy grandpa and open up more.’ </p><p>"Jay?"</p><p>“...I’m not going anywhere, old man.”</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>
  <em>Jason lied.</em>
</p><p>He booked the very first ticket out of Gotham that night.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>😭 Bruce is too hesitant in asking Jason further questions since he so badly doesn't want to screw up with him and Jason wouldn't even answer him because he's dying again and knows it but doesn't want to hurt Bruce all over again. </p><p>😩  Why do I write things like this...?!</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. CLOSE YOUR EYES, PRETEND TO BE BLIND</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Run as Jason may try, he always seems to manage meeting SOMEONE he can't escape.</p>
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    <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>LONDON / APRIL 15TH / 7:00 PM</p>
</blockquote><p>Jason shivered as he stepped out of the taxi. He didn’t really know what he should do now that he was out of Gotham or how long he should even stay here. Bruce was definitely going to try to track him down since he left without any word, even though that was simply something that Jason did. The old man just worried like that.</p><p>He hadn’t packed anything since he wouldn’t need anything. Not where he was planning on ending up. However, he might have overlooked the value of an umbrella in the Old Smoke as his rain-soaked clothes started to plaster to him.</p><p>The growing temptation of the oblivion of sleep was becoming harder to ignore as he ran with seemingly heavy legs towards a nearby bar for cover and a hard drink to quieten his mind. </p><p>The bartender looked up at him when he came in through the door, setting down his drying cloth to take Jason’s order as he looked around the busy establishment. Most of the stools and booths were crowded, four to five people sitting together at each, chattering away boisterously. </p><p>There didn’t seem to be any place to sit except for one booth at the very back with only one man seated alone by himself, the other patrons curiously in avoidance. </p><p>With drink in hand, the Hood slid in opposite the man and, now seeing his older face and blond hair, raised his eyebrows in surprise. Of course with all the many bars in this city, Jason just had to wander into the one with someone he knew in it.</p><p>"Leave me alone, for Christ's sake. Got a bloody fuckin' migraine. Kill me." The scruffy man really did look like he lived his life scurrying around London, going from place to place and searching for any warm bar to take him in.</p><p>"Constantine?"</p><p>At his name being mentioned, the man peered over his glass to see a young man with familiar white roots. "Blood? My good man! Ow ar' ya?" The Hellblazer slurred, the drink in his hand sloshing all over the place.</p><p>"Wrong Jason." The non-demon bound version wrinkled his nose in disgust at the strong smell.</p><p>Blinking once before scrutinizing him more closely, the correct recognition finally hit the older blond man. </p><p>"Fuck me, I'm tired. You reek of death, kid. Been spending time with ghosts, again?"</p><p>"Try death <em>her</em>self." </p><p>And that gave Jason his full attention, John sobering up enough to lean back into the booth he had occupied for some time now. Lighting a cigarette he pulled from behind his ear, he draped his arm over the back of the seat and took a long puff.</p><p>"Now that you mention it, your hair is noticeably more white than black these days, eh?"</p><p>“My hair colour is the least of my problems.” Jason rolled his dim green eyes, of which Constantine also took note of. Couldn’t call himself a detective of the Occult if he didn’t, now could he. </p><p>"I don't say this often, but I'm sorry." </p><p>“For what?”</p><p>“Dying twice in a shorter lifetime than most people live once.” He waved his arm about vaguely before his expression sombered. “And here I was starting to actually like you. Makes more sense that you're dying that way.”</p><p>He spoke it in such a way that there was no other possibility for his demise. Jason felt something almost akin to kindness towards the man.</p><p>“Come on, I’ll bring you home.” Downing his own drink in one go, he felt ‘flat’ enough that the burn didn’t register to him as he stood up, motioning for the mage to lean on his rain-damp shoulder which the blond did in a slump.</p><p>The barkeep waved him off as he paid both their tabs and left the establishment and back out into the rain, which John groaned annoyedly at feeling the drops on his face.</p><p>“Oh, deal with it, you hartless hind.”</p><p>Hailing a taxi, Jason gave the address he remembered going to once before to the driver which a wavingly conscious Constatine nodded at, going back in for a doze as the Hood closed the door.</p><p>Just as the cab pulled off, a more luxurious black car pulled up to the same spot in front of him and the window rolled down to reveal a very much displeased Talia al Ghul. </p><p>Jason did nothing but get in.</p><p>*    *    *</p><p>It always started the same. He was dying, the colors of his robin suit stark in the scene, even with the blood everywhere, and the <em>laughter</em>. There was always laughter. It made his skin crawl, it pried open the wounds burning on his back, his ribs. It chuckled lowly in his ear, rancid breath fanning out against clammy skin.</p><p>They say self hatred is deeply rooted.<br/>⠀⠀<br/>This was his own form of it.<br/>⠀⠀<br/>Every night it was the same.<br/>⠀⠀<br/>Sometimes it was Bruce who would swing the crowbar, manic laughter bouncing off the walls as the emotionless white eyes of the cowl bore into his soul. “I don't want to be alive.” He would say, to himself, to the chilly gotham air. To any poor dead soul who was around to listen to his words.<br/>⠀⠀<br/>He would put the hood on, a small part of him wishing that this night would be his last. That he would die again, and not be brought back this time.<br/>⠀⠀<br/>He hadn’t wanted to be brought back.<br/>⠀⠀<br/><em>He didn’t want to live like this anymore.⠀⠀</em></p><p>Dead robin walking.<br/>⠀⠀<br/>Dead robin.<br/>⠀⠀<br/>Dead.</p><p>Death carried a black parasol this time around, keeping with her gothic theme. For the many centuries she had gone about her business without a form, she seemed to have found an interest in understanding the creations she had always been so involved with, taking a form like theirs to wander the mortal world.</p><p>"As much as I like to say that everyone gets the same—one lifetime—that's not quite true, now is it? There are a few cheaters." She wagged a finger in front of Jason's nose as she sat down next to him amiably. </p><p>“Your time is growing short. I’m surprised you didn’t want to spend it with your family back in Gotham.”</p><p>“I did.” Jason slouched in his posture, looking very tired. “But what would be the point? I know I’m dying. They don’t. All I’d do is hurt them when they figure it out.”</p><p>*     *    *</p><p>UNKNOWN / UNKNOWN / UNKNOWN</p><p>“What a fool you are.” </p><p>Jason awoke to softness and a hand brushing his hair out of his face. His ribs felt like they had been bashed inwards and his head was ringing insistently. He didn’t want to wake up.</p><p>“You should have come to live with me. We could have started lazarus treatments sooner.”</p><p>Blinking a few times to clear the blurry image, Jason's eyes were in pain for some reason and no matter how many times he opened and closed them his vision remained partially blocked.</p><p>“Why? Just to have me go mad again? No, thanks, Tals.” </p><p>“I could have helped in other ways, then. You should have come to <em>me</em> for help. Your physical injuries are relapsing, not to mention the state of your mind.”</p><p>Jason gave her a sorry smile with a shrug of one shoulder. “You can’t stop death, Talia. Your father <em>tried</em>, sure but even he knew he couldn’t run forever, and I most certainly don’t have the energy for it—”</p><p>“<em>Jason</em>.” </p><p>“Please, Talia. You were the only person willing to save me then and the only person I trust with this now—”</p><p>“Hush, <em>Ibni</em>.” Talia quietened him and turned her face away from him for a moment, even though his vision was beyond much seeing. No matter how much time passed it seemed, he would always be that young but hurting boy she saved all those years ago.</p><p>She ignored the taste of salt. </p><p>“You may rest. I will take care of you as I have done before.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If I were ever to do a lantern au, not that I would, Talia would definitely be a Star Sapphire.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. FOR ONCE, I CAN SEE WHERE I'M BOUND</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
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  <p>GOTHAM CITY / APRIL 27 / 3:27 AM</p>
</blockquote><p>A strong, yet cool spring wind blew through the cemetery, allowing strands of Talia’s long, dark brown hair to fall from her french twist which framed the warm honey tone of her face as she walked amongst the rows upon rows of headstones. </p><p>The Wayne family plot was at the furthest end of the burial grounds, where most of the older families of Gotham lay their deceased, residing behind ancient wrought-iron gates.</p><p>But the one family in resting the daughter of the demon was heading down the brick path towards, were in a plot with just barely budding trees hunched over the allotment, casting shadows which echoed the painful grief and emptiness of loss carried by the man sitting before one such headstone.</p><p>But then again, the shadows were always where he looked most at home.</p><p>"Beloved. It's three in the morning."</p><p>"Doesn't explain why <em>you're</em> here.”</p><p>She’d be lying if she said that the blatant hostility didn’t sadden her. Talia looked away towards the edge of the plot for a moment before sitting down next to him, unminding of the damp dirt on her black, wide-legged slacks. </p><p>“Out of love. Are my actions not always out of love?”</p><p>“Really.” The mistrust in his tone was obvious.</p><p>“I’m not sure why you would have trouble finding such a thing believable. I love you, I love my son, I even love my father despite his many, many misgivings. I am a woman driven by love.”</p><p>Their knees brushed together as they both gazed upon the towering angel underneath which was engraved: Here Lies Jason Todd-Wayne.</p><p>“And that is why I can understand your pain. The soul-destroying, all-consuming feeling of losing any loved one is not to be underestimated or undermined.”</p><p>Bruce remained in a state of silence for a few long minutes. Almost like a gargoyle—or a reflection of what was caged within.</p><p>"I had the strangest feeling like I had lost Jason all over again. But he's been buried for <strong>six years</strong> now.” He spoke quietly, almost whispering at the same volume as the wind blowing between them.</p><p>“I had just—” Bruce let out a heavy sigh before running his hands over his face. “I just miss him. I’ll always miss him.”</p><p>Talia could only stay silent with some vague, unknown loss echoing in her chest.</p><p>*    *    *</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>GREEK COUNTRYSIDE / APRIL 26TH / 11:30 PM</p>
</blockquote><p>Ra’s had always said that it was Talia's heart to blame for most, if not all her mistakes, which she supposed she could agree with to some extent. It was true that she allowed her heart to rule over her head on occasion; of which one example was throwing Jason into the Lazarus waters in the first place; but despite what consequences they may have held, she never found herself regretting what she had done.</p><p>
  <em>Please, Talia.</em>
</p><p>She had felt like wringing his neck right then and there for even thinking of asking her such a thing. To do such a thing for him. To him. After all she’s done these precious few years.</p><p>At first, she had felt something akin to irritation when Jason had first refused the invitation to come live with her and start lazarus treatments, but she was not distressed over it then.</p><p>As he had once been guided through her influence; but slipped through her fingers then— she wasn’t about to let it happen twice. She would find him and she would save him. As she would always do.</p><p>He would not explode. </p><p>A month and twenty-some days later, however, as she sat next to the boy’s deathbed, his intravenous line dripping morphine steadily through the catheter and into the vein, she held his hand gently, as she always did, speaking in a calm, steady tone while betraying no real emotion.</p><p>“The world has not been kind to us both, <em>ibni</em>. The circumstances surrounding our lives and deaths were nothing but cruel but yet we both just kept... fighting. <em>Always</em> fighting.”</p><p>There was no response from Jason aside from the painfully difficult rising of his chest. He had been in such pain these past twelve days she had been caring for him and seemed to find such stress in the constant ringing and buzzing of his phone that she had simply turned it off and tucked it away from his sight.</p><p>He had calmed much after she had done so.</p><p>“Are we not deserving of love ourselves? Of course, I had always been taught as a child that such things would only weaken me in a fight, but what was I even fighting for if not love?”</p><p>Kissing his forehead with such softness, her breath shuddered as her eyes started to prickle. “You and Damian both are so very dear to me even if I don’t always show that in ways others understand.”</p><p>“Sleep, <em>habibi</em>.” Talia allowed herself to cry as she increased his morphine dosage and listened to the final relaxation of her <strong>son</strong>’s diaphragm. </p><p>*   *    *</p><p>"Am I really dead this time?"<br/>
 <br/>
"Dead? I suppose in some existential sense. Though I think that there’s still something out there for you, Jason." </p><p>The pale, gothic girl took his hand and pulled him up from where he was laying on the bed, leaving his body behind as she walked off with him down the halls of the house where there were a fond few memories of him, Damian and Talia living together for a while when Ra’s granted her free time with them.</p><p>“They won’t remember my second life, will they?” Jason asked with an almost innocent hopefulness lit in his eyes that had been long lost to him.</p><p>“Not at all. Perhaps some feelings will remain with them, but as far as anyone is concerned, you stayed with me this whole time. Pinky-promise.”</p><p>Linking a pale finger with a much smaller one, Jason beamed. “You’re pretty cool, you know?”</p><p>"Why, th’ank you, young man!” Death gave a quick little dip, complimenting with a posh accent and all. “I find you mortals very interesting as well." </p><p>She hummed some long-ago aired show theme as she walked away into the light with a younger-looking Jason, fluffy curls and all. "Animals are also quite fascinating, you know. But I think I’m most fond of cats in particular. Maybe that's why they have nine lives."</p><p>“Cats are okay, I guess.” Jason smiled with bright blue eyes, looking very much at peace with himself. “I’m more of a dog person though.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Not sure if this made sense but: <br/>(1) Talia assisted Jason with his death out of mercy, which was the final request he made of her in the previous chapter.</p><p>(2) The universe auto-corrected itself with Jason's second death. One such correction was Jason's resurrection, which Jason says earlier: "should never have happened," ... never happened. That's why Bruce told Talia that Jay had been dead for six years. Since he was 15. No one remembers the Red Hood II, his dip in the pit, his anger and then acceptance. That was all erased.</p><p>Talia and Bruce both are the only real loose ends the universe left as even though their memories are gone like everyone else, they were left with the feeling that Jason had died all over again out of the blue. No reasonings. Just the feeling of loss.</p><p>The End.</p>
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